


Love is patient, love is kind

by winter_angst



Series: Dribble Drabbles [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Charcuterie, Curtain Fic, Early Relationship, Food, M/M, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock tries to impress Jack.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Dribble Drabbles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527689
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Love is patient, love is kind

**Author's Note:**

> title: She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert

If there was one thing Brock learned from his nonna it was the importance of image when hosting. It wasn’t a party but Brock still felt he had to create a certain image -- or rather, continue it. He opened the shades, the late afternoon sun casting pools of light on his laminate kitchen floors. Brock paused, resting his hands on the edge of the counter, eyes shut. It’d been a long time since he was nervous like this, his stomach in knots and worry nagging at him. He’d cleaned his apartment from top to bottom, going so far as washing down the window sills and baseboards. There was an image he was trying to portray, a man who was collected and well fitted for a man like Jack. Deep down he felt he wasn’t, that this charade was a bundle of lies that Jack would see through the second he walked into his cramped one bedroom apartment. 

So Brock hoped to distract him, to convince him that while Brock was well out of Jack's tax bracket, he had something to offer. Whether he truly did or not Brock wasn’t sure but he was going off something the Rumlows did do well: making charcuterie boards. He thought it would go well with Jack, a guy who wore an Armani suit while dining in an In-N-Out because he didn't realize it was fast food. Brock had never been more mortified but Jack didn’t seem to mind, asking about Brock’s work as a receptionist -- the way they had met. Honestly Brock should have put two and two together. He had booked a presidential suite, why wouldn't he be rich? Jack had asked him out and he was too good looking and nice to refuse. So when he asked what restaurant he preferred in the city he had responded with candor. 

He took care of his body but In-N-Out was his guilty pleasure. Not to mention that they were single handedly the best burgers in Chicago. The board had been a gift from nonna, a black walnut board with a glossy finish. Brock only cracked it out when he had friends over during the holidays. Brock stared at it a moment, fingers trailing over the smooth finish. He could almost hear her voice again (“It’s an art, Brock. Come watch me, I’ll show you… Yes, yes you can have smoked salmon when it’s done…”). His smile was sad. He was always so conflicted by his nonna’s passing. He was lucky to have spent so many years with her, running through olive groves together pretending to be chased, stealing zeppoles, freshly rolled in sugar and filled with sweet custard while nonna looked the other way on purpose, and her hugs. Hugs that were warm and loving. The hug of a person who loved you irrevocably. 

They were happy feelings and sad as well. But he had long since come to terms with it. But now, almost eight years later, that pang still hit him. 

He set the board on the counter and took a deep breath preparing for his task. He’d blown his grocery budget for two weeks and would be living on chicken and rice but it was worth it. He had selected his cheese on his nonna’s age old requirements: aged (gruyere), creamy and soft (brie), crumbly (feta), firm (parmigiano reggiano), smoked (gouda), and blue (roquefort -- he didn’t know how Jack felt about cheese with a strong smell so he played it safe). 

The wine pairing was easy for Brock -- he, much like his nonna, loved wine and going to tasting when he was in Italy was a go to when he visited. Before nonna passed she had requested they share one last glass together. So it held a special place in his heart. It didn’t bother him to have bought several bottles. Shiraz to pair with the smoked gouda (dry with hints of dark fruit and cocoa hints), chardonnay for the brie (dry but fresh, crisp, a bit fruity), pinot grigio for the parmigiano reggiano (semi-sweet fruity with hints of honey and a touch of minerals), sauvignon blanc for gruyere (dry with notes of citrus), albarino for the feta (dry and aromatic with nectarines, grapefruit and hints of beeswax),and riesling for the roquefort (sweet with hints of orchard fruits). 

He poured himself a glass of wine from his own collection and, after taking in the cheese before him, got to slicing and arranging. He decided to design the board around them, place them strategically towards the corners, the brie and feta in the center. Brock dressed the top of the brie with spiced caramel and pumpkin seeds. He laid a line of rice crackers between them and went to the fridge to get out the meat. The sopressata was sliced thinly, and folded carefully against each other fanned it around the brie, the marbled red spicy salami popped against the dark wood beneath it and the creamy cheese it bordered. Brock countered the spice of that salami with the fennel seed flecked finocchiona. That covered both bases for Brock, whether Jack liked spicy or not he’d have options. Next he got out the lomo, already sliced. It was one of the biggest splurges he’d gotten at the store and even now he shuddered at the cost. But it was delicacy, air dried pork tenderloin. He fanned that around the smoked gouda and took a break from the meat to cut the baguette he’d picked up and cut it at an angle. 

He checked the time and grabbed the serrano, a cut from pork legs, and got to slicing which went around the gruyere. Lamb neck pate was placed against the edge of the board and Brock laid some slices of bread around it. Brock placed the shaved fatback on the outside of the bread and grabbed the lox, another far too pricey item he’d picked up. The salt brined fillet was sliced into portions to fit the baguettes and Brock stepped back to see how he’d done so far. He added more bread, wanting to ensure there was enough for both the salmon and the pate. Brock wasn’t done, not yet. He still needed to add fruits and cucumber slices. That went by quickly, laying out the grapes and dipping apple and pear slices into salt water so they wouldn’t brown. He cut open a fig for decoration and placed a handful of cashews, pecans and dried cherries and figs. He fit the cut fig between the fanned apples and the parmigiano reggiano. 

He filled little ramekins that his nonna had gifted him with honey, leccino olives, and cream cheese for the lox. 

Brock took a step back and he was proud of what’d created but the fear of Jack being underwhelmed by lingered in the back of his mind. Brock could only speculate on all the fancy parties he’d gone to but was certain he’d seen his fair share of charcuterie boards and this… Well this was a novice’s attempt. Preparing one from his friends was one thing but what had he been thinking about making this? What had he been thinking to invite him to his apartment. He was an idiot. A complete and utter fool and now it was too late. Jack would stay, to be polite, but then he’d cut off Brock completely. 

The buzzer rang, pulling Brock back to reality and he took a deep breath. “Hello?” 

“It’s Jack Rollins.” 

Brock couldn’t help the smile. “Come on up Jack Rollins.” 

Even when Brock was having a crisis Jack could make him smile. Brock waited by the door but waited a second after the knocking so he wouldn’t look desperate and overly excited. He pulled open the door and Jack stood there in slacks and an oxford button down. “Come in please.” 

Jack stepped in, looking around curiously. Brock’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “I know it’s small,” he blurted. 

“I think it’s nice.” Jack replied. “And it’s good to see you again.” 

The relationship was too new for hugs but too old for handshakes so Brock smiled led him to his cramped living room. The intention of his date was to watch a movie. The $5.99 had hurt his wounded bank account even further but Brock wasn’t going to admit that. Not now, not ever. The sofa had three cushions and Brock wasn’t sure where to sit. 

“I-I made snacks.” Brock told him. 

Jack smiled. “Perfect.” 

Brock walked out to get the cheese board and when he stepped out to get the board. He brought it in and Jack stared at him. Just silence, his green eyes on the board. “I… I’m not great at making them,” Brock admitted and Jack scoffed. 

“You’re kidding me right? That is one of the nicest charcuterie boards I’ve ever seen.” 

Reassurance flooded through him along with embarrassment. He set it down and started towards the kitchen. “Is that lox?” 

“It is.” 

“You didn’t need to do this for me, Brock. I would’ve been fine with popcorn.” 

Brock panicked. “No, no it’s okay.” 

Jack still looked unsettled which made the burning embarrassment even worse. “And lomo? Brock, you didn't need to do this.” Jack said again.

“I just wanted… I felt bad about the burger thing.” Brock admitted. 

“Don’t. Honestly I’ve been looking for an excuse to eat more fast food.” Jack smiled. “I know I looked ridiculous but this was supposed to be a business trip and I didn’t intend on meeting anyone -- much less someone has incredible as you -- so my options were either suits or sweat pants and a Yale tee shirt which makes people instantly hate you.” 

A small smile crept across Brock’s face. “You went to Yale?” 

“I did. And now I’m one of those Yale people who feel the need to tell others they went to Yale.” Jack sighed looking annoyed. 

“It’s okay,” Brock assured him. “I forgive you. Sorry about the board.” 

“Don’t apologize, it’s exquisite. All it’s missing -- ”

“Wine,” Brock finished with a smile. “And I’ll go grab that.” 

He brought in the first decanter with two glasses before he went to get more. “Brock,” Jack began to protest. 

“I love wine,” Brock cut in. “It didn’t hurt me any.” 

Before long there were side by side with plates looking over the board and the decanters lined up neatly. “I have no idea where to start.” 

“Do you know what all the cheese is?”

“I do. Fantastic picks by the way.” 

Brock blushed. “Thanks. My nonna taught me how to make them.” 

“You had a lovely teacher and I’d say you perfected the art. Do you mind if I -- ”

Brock shook his head and Jack reached for the spreader and a baguette piece. He smeared brie on top and took a bite. The groan he let out when straight to his Brock’s cock. There was something satisfying about this, about pleasing Jack without so much as lifting a finger. They said the fastest way to man’s heart was stomach and, should the rest of the board go this well Brock may make his way there. The movie was a historical drama about the rise of the Edwardian era. It wasn’t Brock’s kind of movie -- there wasn’t a single gunshot or explosion -- but he could see that Jack was enjoying it and that made it tolerable. They ate between scenes -- lox and cream cheese on a baguette, a cracker with pate and honey to cut into the rich taste and texture. Lomo folded onto crackers with a dried fig. Finocchiona on a baguette. Lox on a cucumber with cream cheese. Soppressata on sliced apples. Pate on pear slices. Fatback on crackers -- which caught Jack’s attention. 

He ate three before he turned to Brock. “What is this?” 

Brock paused the movie; he didn’t want Jack to miss a second of it. “Uh,” he said because he already knew his reaction. “It’s fatback.” 

Jack’s eyes widened. 

“Nonna always told never to tell. It’s good though, isn’t it?” 

“I just ate lard.” 

“Kind of.” 

Jack was quiet and then he laughed. “When I’m with you I end up doing things I never dreamed I’d want to do.” Jack shook his head and reached for me. “It’s good.” 

“Of course it’s good,” Brock said, pleased. “It’s fat.” 

“I think an hour on the treadmill will be worth a few more of these.” 

They drank wine as well, Jack sampling each cheese with the wine best paired and after the film Jack complimented Brock for his knowledge. “I’d love to take you wine tasting.” Jack told him. “Maybe you can teach me about this sweet and dry business and how to tell a good wine from a bad one.” 

“I wouldn’t say there’s a good or bad wine. All wine is good in my opinion. It depends on what you like. Something simple and floral, something full bodied, or something complex -- it comes down to tastes.” 

“I’m more of a whiskey guy myself but I’ve been told that’s a little aggressive for restaurants,” Jack laughed. “Tell me, when did you start?” 

“Drinking wine?” 

Jack smiled. “No, making these charcuterie boards.” 

“I used to help my nonna before my parents and I came to America. I visited during the summer and we would make for them when her friends came over. I made my own on winter break for the Christmas party my parents threw. People liked it and it… I don’t know, boosted my ego a bit.” 

“As it should.” Jack said with a nod. 

“It’s just… It’s just a thing, I guess.” 

“I don’t imagine you normally make it with lox.” 

“Well, not usually, no.” 

“Brock I don’t want you to feel like you need to impress me. I like you for who you are. Please don’t change yourself on my account. I like this Brock.” 

Brock swallowed. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Jack took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Not that it wasn’t lovely -- it really, really was. But you don’t have to try with me, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Jack reached up, fingers brushing against his cheek before he cupped the back of his neck, ever so gentle. Brock leaned into the kiss that tasted of wine and cheese. It was a slow kiss, one that was reassuring and romantic. When Jack pulled away Brock felt almost drunk. “I have to go back to the hotel for dinner -- can I take you to lunch tomorrow?” 

“Sure.” 

Jack smiled and got to his feet. He drained his wine and grabbed a fatback cracker to go. “Thank you for inviting me here.” 

“Thank you for coming.” 

Jack smiled. “I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll follow you anywhere. You’re doing strange things to me, Mr. Rumlow.” 

Brock flushed and they kissed in the entryway before Jack broke free and Brock said goodbye. He paused in the hallway. “Not goodbye Brock. See you later.” 

With a smile Brock said, “See you later Jack.” 

“Yes, yes you will.”


End file.
